Scratching the Itch
by vanillafluffy
Summary: The feline DNA in Max's genetic cocktail has her in heat and wailing her desire to the skies. Her roommate isn't happy about who she's chosen to solve the problem with, but Max plays by her own rules. AU features Watchmen characters in post-Pulse Seattle.


**Scratching the Itch**

Max paces the balcony of the penthouse, looking out over the Seattle skyline by moonlight. The breeze fans her dark hair back, and she inhales, trying to catch his scent. She's twitchy from her mating drive, impatient for her lover's arrival. A few more strands of cat in her genetic cocktail, and she'd be wailing her desire to the moon. Where _is _he? Scanning the nearby rooftops for movement, she leans over the parapet, stamping one booted foot in exasperation.

"Careful," says a jovial voice behind her. "One good push, and you'd better learn to fly."

She spins around, staring at the broad-shouldered man silhouetted against the French doors. He's garbed head-to-toe in black leather, and the orange tip of his cigar glows in the darkness. Downwind, is her first thought---her second is that she hadn't heard him approach, either. "Where---how---?"

"Through your front door---like normal people. Laurie let me in." Eddie Blake gives her a predatory grin, and Max forgets her annoyance in the resulting surge of hormones. It's indicative of her state of arousal that she merely plucks the cigar from his mouth and doesn't demand he brush his teeth before kissing her.

They should have nothing in common. He has spent his life fighting crime, she is an unrepentant thief. She is young and beautiful, while a rough life has left its marks on him and he's old enough to be her father. In fact, he's her roommate's father, which is indirectly how they met, and his daughter is actually a couple years older than she is.

Although she knows he isn't a transgenic---Max has combed every inch of his body for a barcode in case Manticore had gotten creative---something about Eddie sends echoes of recognition to her feline DNA. Part of it is the self-assured way he moves, prowling like a mighty cat, hazel-eyed gaze missing nothing. The battle scars on his face give him the rakish air of an old tom. Even his voice is a throaty growl that can snarl with rage or purr with satisfaction.

Urgently, she propels them into the lavish living room until Blake drags them to a stop near one of the leather couches. The light reveals his dark hair, going salt-and-pepper at the temples, and two days' growth of stubble. "What's your hurry, Kitten?" He ruffles her hair affectionately. "The night is young."

"And I've been thinking about you all day." She runs a hand from the neck of the long-sleeved pullover under his jacket, down, down, until she's well below his belt. "Oooh," she breathes. "That's what I need. You not going to make me wait any more, are you?"

"Why not? It builds character. What the hell is that music?" He cocks his head, listening. "Crap's older than I am."

"Laurie's going to karaoke at that club she likes." Max wrinkles her nose, making no secret of her distaste for her roommate's penchant for uber-retro. "Blame it on Normal, he's the one who turned her on to the moldy oldies."

"What, that Ronald Reagan guy she's been seeing? Sweetheart, if you think he's a schmuck, you should've seen the nebbish she came out here to get away from." Laurie's version of the tale is that she chose Seattle because it was well away from her father in New York and her mother in California…except that Eddie Blake had come for an unannounced visit and been trapped by the Pulse. Laurie was none too thrilled by that.

Max has worked her hand deep inside his pants, curling it around his prick and stroking with enthusiasm. "I thought he was one of those Masks, like you were."

"Dan? The guy was a well-off nerd who liked playing Caped Crusader." Eddie breathes deeply in response to Max's caresses. "He put together some nifty gadgets," He curls his lip in contempt, "but he was clumsy as hell in a fight---when he actually got involved in one. A real sissy-boy."

"That's not true!" a soprano voice calls from a distant room. A staccato tapping of heels on marble tile approaches down the hallway. "Dan thought of violence as a last resort! Just because he didn't start punching people out and tried to resolve conflicts instead of provoking them---" Laurie appears in the archway, incongruously dressed in white ankle boots with four-inch heels, white leather pants and a threadbare yellow terrycloth robe. She's scowling "And for your information, I'm spending the evening with Reagan Ronald, not---eww! Max! Not in the living room!" She turns her back on the tableau.

"What, you've never seen one before? See, I told you he was a sissy-boy. What red-blooded American male wouldn't be hot for a pretty gal like that?"

"Eddie, you're disgusting," Laurie snaps. "I've seen plenty of them---I just have no desire to see yours! Ever! It's too...Oedipal."

"Edible?" Max repeats, with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk. "Only if it's quid pro quo."

Laurie shrieks and retreats. Eddie laughs heartily and scoops Max into a bear-hug. "Good one." He spins her around and begins crooning along with the music, hamming it up. "Some en-CHANT-ed EVE-ning, you will meet a STRAIN-ger, you will meet a STRAIN-ger, ah-CROSS a cr-OW-ded room---"

"I thought you didn't like that music," Max teases, but she rests her cheek against his shoulder, ebony hair spilling down in soft curls as they waltz around the spacious living room. It's an upscale space, with glossy black marble floors and cut-glass light fixtures, designed to impress. Laurie has very posh taste; the only room in the penthouse where Max feels truly comfortable is her own.

"My mother," he says succinctly, "loved this song. When I was growing up, she must've played it five thousand times on her little portable phonograph…on a 45. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Vinyl recordings? Hell, I feel like such a dinosaur sometimes!"

"Uh-huh." Max gives him a skeptical look. She's in her early twenties, he's in his late forties, but there's nothing fossilized about his libido. "T-Rex."

This restores his affable mood. He bares his teeth at Max and pretends to chomp her neck, but his lips and stubble barely graze the side of her throat and drift upward to claim her lips.

"Max? Can I have a word with you?"

Not immediately. Max is too busy returning Eddie's no-quarter-given kiss. She leans against his muscular body, her mouth hungry against his. She rubs against him with involuntary need. A little moan escapes her.

"_Maaaaax---!"_ Three letters, three syllables. Pissed. Right...the transgenic squirms her way out of the embrace..

"Let me just go see what she wants."

"No hurry. I'm not going anywhere."

"How 'bout my room?" Max suggests. She gives him a hopeful grin. "It would save time if you'd get naked."

Laurie's room is at end of the hallway, past the coat closet, Max's room and the so-called spare room on the right and the bathroom and laundry nook on the left. The queen of the penthouse, her lavender-tinted bedroom is the largest by far, and has a connecting bath.

She's standing by the bed, the yellow robe crumpled at her feet, wearing only the leather pants and booties. "I need some help with that---" She indicates the pink-and-white patent corset displayed on the lilac satin coverlet.

Gazing at her, Max can only imagine the delicate goddess who bequeathed her genes to Laurie's porcelain perfection. Eddie is far too rugged to take credit for them. Elegant bone structure gives her a regal air. She doesn't need make-up to look beautiful, but with the additional grooming, she's truly stunning.

Max feels a pang of envy. Laurie's beauty seems so effortless--- she never achieves the same results, try though she will. Her hair is too stubbornly curly and she's too…sturdy. Not in a bad way---she likes her looks most of the time---but she's a completely different type, and Laurie didn't need genetic engineering to pull hers off.

Beginning with the laces loose behind her roommate's back, Max carefully hooks the busk closure in the front. As she fastens the top hook, Laurie tips her chin upward. "I _hate_ sharing you with him!" she hisses in an undertone, and kisses her roommate, her tongue flicking out---but not for long. "Ugh! You even taste like him, it's disgusting!"

Pulling away, Max steps behind her and begins to snug the corset's laces. "Deal with it," she says flatly. "Just because we fool around, doesn't mean you own me."

"He's my father, and you're younger than I am!" Laurie protests. "It's…inappropriate."

Max snorts, yanks on the ties hard enough to make the other woman gasp. "But that threesome with Alec was just good, wholesome fun?"

"Well…yes. We're all roughly the same age and he's not related to me," she says breathlessly.

"And the fact that you happen to be dating my hopelessly square boss, who also just happens to be Alec's boss?"

"He's not _that_ much older than me, and we're just good friends." Her voice gets a little more shrill as the corset clutches her ribcage.

"Uh-huh. And that facility Alec and I grew up in was really just a high-tech orphanage." The transgenic ties the laces into a bow and tucks it under the hem of the corset. "Bend over."

A cascade of silken sable hair hides Laurie's face as she bends forward. Without being told, her hands wrap around the back of her legs just above her knees.

Delicately, Max adjusts the breasts on display in the shiny corset, coaxing them so that their rosy tips are barely concealed by the white patent trim above the candy pink bodice. Laurie whimpers as her nipples are tweaked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her thighs rubbing together as she squirms.

"Now you know how I feel," Max tells her, patting the white leather-clad curve of her friend's rump. "All worked up and needy. And you know what? I'm going to go into the other room and take care of that, and you're going to go be 'just friends' with Normal." She strides toward the door, smirking again. "You know why? Because you have these weird rules about what's 'appropriate'. Buh-bye!"

"Max, you are such a bitch!"

"Wrong species!" Max calls back, laughing. It's funny: She and Laurie are nearly the same age, but she gets along with Eddie so much better. She skips back down the hall and rejoins him in her bedroom.

This is the nicest space she's ever lived in. She's free to come and go as she likes and free to make it her own. In contrast to the cool lilac tones of Laurie's bed chamber, Max selected a hot Tahitian pink that seems to throb on the walls. Eddie has said that it makes him feel like he's being swallowed alive, but to her it's cheerful and welcoming.

Eddie has settled his leather jacket over the back of the chair in the corner. His boots stand at parade rest beside it. He hasn't made any more progress than that, and doesn't seem to be in any great hurry. This isn't acceptable! Max swoops in and begins tugging the hem of his charcoal grey pullover upward.

"What your hurry, Kitten?" he growls, extending his arms so it's impossible for her to pull it over his head.

Max plays dirty. Her hands dart to his ribcage, fingers fluttering against his sides, tickling him. He roars and grabs her. He has her around the waist, but instead of tickling her back, he lifts her up and tosses her onto the bed.

She's breathing more rapidly with anticipation. His gaze locks with hers. "Strip," he commands. At Manticore, she was ordered around for as long as she can remember and hated it, but the rumbling snarl of Eddie's voice makes her want to obey.

Her boots bounce off a wall and land askew. Her jeans wind up in the same vicinity. She starts to remove her tee shirt, stops. "What about you?" she demands.

"What about me?" He leans back against the wall by the closet door, smiling. His hand rubs negligently against the crotch of his black leather pants. She licks her lips in involuntary reaction. "The sooner your clothes are off, Maxie, the sooner you're going to get what you want."

The tee shirt joins the heap of scattered clothes. All Max has on now is a cobalt blue sports bra and a pair of electric blue bikini panties. She cups her breasts teasingly and fondles her nipples, letting him see the points they form in the soft cotton jersey. She sighs at the sensation, her eyes half-closed, watching him watch her.

He unbuckles his belt, letting everything slide to the floor, where he steps away from it, that much closer to the bed.

She bends her left arm so that her forearm pushes her breasts up and she can squeeze her right nipple with the fingertips of her left hand. Her right hand slides beneath the satiny fabric of her panties, where she's slippery with excitement.

By now, Eddie has peeled off the pullover. He stands there naked, watching her play with herself. He may proclaim himself a dinosaur, but the erection straining toward his navel proves he's far from extinct. "Yeah, baby---that's it! Doesn't that feel good?"

Moving closer, he kneels at the bottom of the bed, straddling her calves. Reaching forward, he hooks his fingers at the side of her bikini bottoms, and tugs them downward. Max lifts her hips, and the silky fabric skims down her thighs. In a moment, they've gone to the floor, and she's giving him a good view of what they'd covered.

Eddie tugs her hand away and replaces it with his own, exploring her to find out how ready she is. He slides two fingers deep inside with no effort at all, and Max moans, hips arching to meet that intimate penetration. His thumb presses against her clit, and she wails with desire.

With his free hand, he snaps the elastic at the bottom of the sports bra, which she interprets correctly to mean "Take it off." She complies, and now there's nothing to cover her, just the glory of her dark hair and tawny skin spread against the comforter. Eddie Blake's smile grows a little wider, and his fingers work to coax her to climax.

She expects to feel his mouth on her nipples, but instead, Eddie rubs his rough chin across one, then the other. His hands are strong, knowledgeable, insistent. Max arches her pelvis, moaning continuously until the lazy circles of his thumb change to quick flicks of her tender clit and the cries become little mewling sounds of contentment.

After such a prolonged state of need, she's not so easily satisfied. He's taken his hand away so he can balance himself over her. Every time Eddie's prick comes into contact with Max's wet slit, he pulls teasingly away as she tries frantically to capture him.

"Something you want, Kitten? More? You want more? Is this what you want?"

"Eddie, _please_!"

He chuckles, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at her, begging for what she needs. She's young and beautiful, and he's neither, but he can still satisfy her, even when she's at the mercy of primal need as she is now.

Down the hall, Laurie's door opens and the tap-tap-tap of her booties on the marble floor comes closer. She's singing again, her earlier pique evaporated.

"---All the monkeys aren't in the zoo, every day you meet quite a few---" The coat closet door opens and closes on the other side of the wall. "So you see, it's all up to you---"

The front door opens and closes. Max takes advantage of her lover's distraction to line herself up with his cock and slide well down the thick length of it. Almost there---another inch---!

"Think you're smart, do you?" he growls, and she grins back impudently. Enough games; he's ready to give her what she wants. He rams himself the rest of the way into her---she's hot and slick and he thrusts rapidly for a moment, then regains control of himself.

Max is equally active. She's wrapped her legs around his torso, pumping upward to meet his every stroke. She's making aroused noises again, and he picks up his pace, giving it to her harder and faster until she slumps against the pillows for a moment---but only a moment.

Now, she shifts her legs so that she has leverage and neatly turns the tables on him. He out-masses her, but he's not expecting wrestling moves at a time like this.

Eddie looks bemused to find himself in this position, but he's not going to argue with her. Hell, no. He's on his back and she's straddling him. She's a wildcat and it feels good to be riding his cock, wet and wanton.

She's doing all the work, but this way his big hands are free to clutch her bountiful breasts, teasing the deep rose nipples and making Max whine with longing. This way, when Eddie abandons her left breast, he can use his right hand to stimulate her clit again.

Between the thick column of flesh she gyrates upon and the merciless fingering of her clit, Max is overwhelmed by sensation. There's only her mating drive, nerve endings begging to be satisfied. She's writhing upon the hard cock and the man beneath her who's snarling with his own desire.

He lasts just long enough.

In the aftermath, Max settles down beside him, her cheek pressed against his chest, the sound of his gradually slowing heartbeat in her ear.

Eddie drapes an arm around her shoulders, drawing her a little closer. The arm she's not lying on bends to let her fingers part the dark pelt on his chest. His hand pats her back, gently, and he yawns.

"Lights out," she says, and in the darkness, there is no age or appearance, only a faint snore….

Max is content. The irresistible need that's tormented her is quelled, to return months from now, a problem for another time. She's not usually so demanding, but Eddie, unlike some of the other men in her life, likes it when she's rough and tumble. Right now, there's only tenderness within and without as she snuggles against him. No play-by-play, no pillow talk, just a quiet interlude as they drift into sleep.

She has one final thought before weariness claims her. Thank God her anti-fertility implant is current. If she presented her roommate with a litter of half-sibs, Laurie would have kittens.

**THE END.**


End file.
